


concerning the silver lining

by orphan_account



Category: Free!
Genre: Fluff and Humor, M/M, Tokyo - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 03:46:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5149070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cohabitation (or getting there) in five parts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	concerning the silver lining

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RoseNox98](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseNox98/gifts).



> the prompt was a bit of a free-for-all, but i was getting a fluffy vibe so i ran with it. hope you enjoy!

(1)

The first time Makoto sleeps over -- really _sleeps over_ in the way that boyfriends do -- he wakes up so embarrassed in the morning that he leaves his toothbrush behind.

Haru sees it an hour later, when he heads into the bathroom to survey the mess. Makoto’s toothbrush is in a woeful state of overuse, but at least it isn’t anywhere near as bad as Rin’s (or Nagisa’s, for that matter). Other casualties of the sleepy morning and subsequent “Haru I _have_ to make this train” rush include water still drying on the edges of the sink, droplets and puddles moving sluggishly towards the drain, and several strands of longish brown hair shed onto the counter.

All in all, Makoto in his natural morning state. Haru hides a smile (from who, exactly, he’s not sure) and wipes down the bathroom.

 

(2)

For his birthday Haru buys him an umbrella. It’s a cute one, a carrot color block themed one, and the way Makoto’s eyes light up when he sees it makes Haru lean in and kiss his forehead.

“I’m keeping it here, though,” he says, taking the umbrella back from Makoto’s grateful hands and stashing it in one of the emptier drawers in his dresser.

“But it’s -- it’s my present?”

“Last time you left, it rained and you didn’t have one.” The unspoken _and then you called me to whine and I couldn’t understand half the words you said with your nasal congestion and cough of death_ seeps into the room afterwards.

Makoto considers this. He makes a noise of assent. “Okay.”

Haru waits for him to say thank you. He knows Makoto’s going to say it, and Makoto knows he’s waiting because he knows Makoto will say it, but say it Makoto does not. It plays out on his face expressively, his mouth twisted between stubborn and amused and helpless.

Eventually, Haru gives in. He feels his own face becoming despondent, like glaze hardening under extreme heat. “I’m going to pay for this later, aren’t I?”

Makoto’s smile is honeyed, whipped cream, cherries, American dessert levels of sweet. It’s sweet enough that Haru feels cavities coming in along with the trumpets and false securities of Satan himself. He’s not sure where Makoto learned to smile like that, but he’s been on the receiving end of those smiles too many times to not expect the resulting cold sweat beading on his forehead. “What in heaven’s name do you mean?”

 

(3)

By the time Haru stops counting how many times Makoto comes over and summer heat swaggers in through the window like some unwelcome teenage dirtbag, he doesn’t bother bringing anything.

“Sorry for intruding,” he says instead, kicking off his shoes towards the half-organized shoe area and dropping his backpack next to the couch. “I love your hardwood floors.”

“You didn’t like them very much over the winter,” Haru notes.

“Ah -- it was fine when you bought that rug --”

“-- you _did_ like the rug,” Haru muses, his smile feline. Makoto covers his face with his hands, which makes Haru snort softly. “Why do you still say ‘sorry for intruding’ anyway? You don’t say it when you’re f--”

“Haru!”

“Makoto, we’re the _only ones in this room_.”

“Still. What if you accidentally say something like that in public?”

“You’re talking like I haven’t said anything like that in public.”

Makoto shudders. “Don’t remind me. I think Rei still has a video of the last time we went to that karaoke bar.”

“Well, you’re still alive and kicking.”

“God knows how.” With a grimace, Makoto turns to his backpack. “I have a week’s worth of reading to catch up on. Remember when Kisumi’s little brother wanted to learn how to swim? There are about eight of them at the swim club now, and they all want to sit on my back as I swim around like they’re on that island in _Avatar: The Last Airbender_. Haru, I think I’m getting old.”

Haru’s fingers sink delicately into a tender part of Makoto’s neck. “If you’re old, what does that make me?”

“ _God_ ,” Makoto groans. Haru continues to massage him. “God, sure.”

“You stole my punchline from me.” Haru’s voice comes out more affronted than he’d meant it to, but Makoto just laughs.

“Not too old to make fun of your boyfriend, huh?”

Makoto hums. A moment later they’re on the rug, fingers laced together as they kiss, and kiss, and the tightness in Makoto’s shoulders bleed away into the silence between his sighs.

 

(4)

Haru supposes it was only a matter of time before Makoto’s clothes started collecting in the drawer as well.

“I left my blue T-shirt at your place, didn’t I?” Makoto asks him.

“Yeah. A few weeks ago.”

“A few _weeks_ ago?”

“It keeps me warm.”

“... that’s…”

“Isn’t that why you left it here in the first place?”

Makoto’s sigh rattles through the tinny speakers. “Haru, I left it there because I never feel the urge to have a shirt on around y-- you know what, I take that back. Forget I said that. Oh my god.”

“So it’s true,” Haru presses, not entirely in accusation. Makoto looks _nice_ in that shirt, but he also looks _nice_ without it. It’s really a win-win sort of situation.

“...”

“...”

“...Okay! Yes! It’s true!”

Satisfied, Haru changes the subject. “... are you coming over today?”

“To retrieve my shirt?”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Makoto.” Haru bites back a smile, but it’s too late.

“Haru, it’s not funny!”

“Look me in the eye, Makoto, and tell me that it isn’t funny.”

“We’re on the phone.”

Haru unsticks his phone from his ear to activate video camera capabilities. After a brief flicker of static, Makoto’s face unfuzzes into a rueful smile. “Haru, hey.”

“I’m serious. Look me in the eye and tell me that it isn’t funny.”

Makoto looks. Haru looks back and sees a million things that shouldn’t be evident in their phones’ shitty vidcams’ equally shitty transmission but are still completely evident. He wishes Makoto was here now, close enough that he could frame his hands around his boyfriend’s strong jaw and tap his fingers against his cheekbones.

After a few moments, Makoto sighs. “I can’t make it today. I have to finish this lab report. Haru, I’m so sorry--”

“It’s fine,” Haru says, too quickly for it to have any weight. He clears his throat and feels his face soften. “It’s okay. More days with that shirt of yours.”

 

(5)

“This half of the closet is yours,” Haru tells him.

“Huh?”

“Your drawer filled up.”

“Ah… did it really?”

“I ran out of drawers, so I cleared out half my closet.”

Makoto looks taken aback at this new logic for a moment, but then he smiles. “I see. It does kind of look like we’re living together, doesn’t it?”

Haru opens his mouth. He closes it. He breathes -- and then, he laughs. He says: “I love you, you big dork.”

And Makoto says it right back. “I love you too, my probably at least half fish boyfriend.”

 

(5b)

“We should do that again.”

“Mm. After I nap.”

“We _just_ took a nap. We woke up from the nap so that we could do this.”

“And have some snacks.”

“You know, sometimes I don’t know if I moved in with my boyfriend or if I’ve adopted a really humanoid cat.”

“...”

“You’re nuzzling me. I can’t tell if that means yes or no. Wait, Haru, what did you clear out from your closet?”

“...”

“A-are those boxes of Iwatobi-chan figures? Haru? Are you doing voodoo rituals in your room? Haru?”


End file.
